"
"This is a very worn-out game, Prince," Lucille said coldly. "You
have been making love to women in very much the same manner for
twenty years, and I--well, to be frank, I am utterly weary of
being made love to like a doll. Laugh at me as you will, my
husband is the only man who interests me in the slightest. My
failure to-day is almost welcome to me. It has at least brought
my work here to a close. Come, Prince, if you want to earn my
eternal gratitude, tell me now that I am a free woman."
"You give me credit," the Prince said slowly, "for great generosity.
If I let you go it seems to me that I shall lose you altogether.
You will go to your husband. He will take you away!"
"Why not?" Lucille asked. "I want to go. I am tired of London.
You cannot lose what you never possessed--what you never had the
slightest chance of possessing."
The Prince laughed softly--not a pleasant laugh, not even a
mirthful one.
"Dear lady," he said, "you speak not wisely. For I am very much
in earnest when I say that I love you, and until you are kinder
to me I shall not let you go."
"That is rather a dangerous threat, is it not?" Lucille asked.
"You dare to tell me openly that you will abuse your position,
that you will keep me bound a servant to the cause, because of
this foolish fancy of yours?"
The Prince smiled at her through the gloom--a white, set smile.
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